LEAKING THE NUCLEAR NEWS
Bohdan Nahaylo on how the
Soviet press hinted at the risks of nuclear power
THE Chernobyl disaster has revealed that although Soviet leaders may change, the system over which they preside retains its secretiveness. After almost 70 years of Soviet rule, a lingering sense of insecurity evidently still prevents the Kremlin lead- ership from being candid with its own people, if not the outside world. For all of Mr Gorbachev's emphasis on the need for 'openness', in the areas that count Soviet society remains a closed one.
Despite all the concealment, the Soviet authorities have never succeeded in mak- ing their country completely opaque to outside observers and in evading entirely issues of major concern to the population. Today, for instance, the Soviet press is still far from free, but on careful reading it does provide a surprising amount of information of the sort that normally would not be expected to appear in newspapers control- led by censorship. In fact, through a close inspection of what the Soviet media actually say, it is possible to discover chinks through which Soviet reality can be glimpsed.
Take the development of nuclear energy in the Soviet Union. The Soviet public has for years been assured by their media that Soviet atomic power plants are the safest in the world. For example, on 19 September 1984, Gleb Spiridonov, a political analyst for the Novosti news agency, stated cate- gorically that the USSR did not share the fears voiced in 'some public quarters in the West' regarding 'a possible pollution of the environment by radiation'. 'Many years of Soviet experience,' he asserted confident- ly, 'have proved that it is quite possible to guarantee the complete safety' of nuclear power stations. Although this was the official line, not all Soviet citizens were quite so optimistic: In October 1979, Academician Niko Dollezhal and the economist Yu°, Koryakin were allowed to express their doubts in the pages of the Communist Party's leading organ Kommunist. Iiiall unusually frank article, they warned that nuclear power plants swallowed up in° much land and water, nuclear waste sves difficult to store, and there was always the risk of radiation leaks during the trans- portation of nuclear fuel. In view of what occurred at the Chernobyl plant, situated as it is so close to the Ukrainian capital Kiev, it is noteworthy that the two special- ists proposed that new nuclear poweir stations should be built away from dense 'Y populated areas. Almost exactly three years later, the trade union newspaper Trud revealed that there was growing public concern in the Soviet Union about the safety of nuclear power plants. The paper reproduced ex- cerpts from typical letters written by ple worried about the danger from raw!a on. A welder from Sverdlovsk asked vin h could guarantee that an incident similar .t0 the one which occurred at the Three Ivhien Island reactor in the United States in 1977 could not happen in the USSR. A foreman working on the construction of die, Smolensk atomic power station disclosed° that 'absurd rumours' about the allegeie danger to the vicinity was stopping POP A from buying locally grown vegetables anu„. fruits. 'Could not the experts be asked tut be a little more forthcoming about v.',11.8 goes on in these atomic power stations, suggested, 'so that there would be less idle conjecture?' Significantly, the paper's edi- tors admitted that they had received many similar letters and it was clear from the replies that Trud gave that the authorities felt compelled to reassure the public. Often, telling hints are given away as part of the intermittent campaigns against inefficiency, waste, corruption, bureaucra- cy and other officially designated evils. For instance, in July 1983 Pravda announced that the Politburo had condemned 'gross violations of state discipline' at the giant Atommash reactor-manufacturing plant at Volgodonsk, which until then, despite va- rious shortcomings, had been a symbol of the Soviet scientific progress. Three days later a special commission to supervise safety in the nuclear industry was appointed. Eventually, Western journalists were tipped off by Soviet sources that the Problems at the plant stemmed from siting the factory too close to a reservoir, as a result of which its foundations had been undermined. Moscow remained reticent about the extent of the damage to the multi-billion-rouble plant. Nevertheless, the Soviet public were able, albeit belated- ly, to learn more about the scandal from Western radio broadcasts.
Even in the case of the Chernobyl nuclear power station it is possible to discover some disquieting details in the Soviet press about its construction and operation. As far back as 1971, the Soviet Ukrainian journal Nauka i Suspilstvo (Sci- ence and Society) wrote that the plant was 'unique' in the Soviet Union 'not only because of its design but also the fast methods of construction'. As it turned out, however, in their haste to meet the tight construction schedules set by the state and to transform the enterprise into one of the world's most powerful atomic power sta- tiMs, the officials responsible for the plant's operation and expansion ignored c°11structional defects that had been de- tected in the very first reactor. The prob- lems mounted and were passed onto the fourth reactor where the recent mishap occurred. This at least is what can be gleaned from a strong critique of condi- tions at the Chernobyl plant which aPpeared only a month before the disaster in the 27 March issue of Literatura Ukrainian the newspaper meant for the Ukrainian intelligentsia. Ostensibly, the author of the article, the Kovalevska, was concerned with me reasons why the construction of the Plant's fifth power set is lagging behind and therefore jeopardising the fulfilment of the USSR's current five-year plan. She dis- closed that the plant was plagued by a Yarlety of difficulties, including disruptions m the supply of essential materials, poor o rganisation of work, and a demoralised Workforce Much of the material delivered to the plant, she wrote, was defective, I eluding even 'the fissure sealant for the nn the situation at the plant on the eve of the disaster, according to Kovalevska, was that difficulties accumulated from the first pow- er block had multiplied and 'become over- grown' with a huge number of unsolved problems. Probing the limits of permitted 'openness' on this subject, she emphasised that what was lacking at the plant was 'the strictest adherence to the correct building techniques' and that this and the various other shortcomings 'are characteristic of many construction sites in the country'.
Kovalevska then was permitted to go so far in exposing conditions at the Chernobyl plant, yet when the catastrophe took place the Soviet media were silent. Ironically, only in January, the newspaper Sovetskaya Rossiya published a letter from a reader complaining about the 'overcautiousness' shown by the Soviet media in reportiing disasters inside the USSR. Why was it, he asked, that Soviet television was so good at reporting on earthquakes and volcanic eruptions in Latin America, but was not forthcoming about similar tragedies within the Soviet Union? 'This silence strikes me as a reflection of entirely unjustified dis- trust of readers and viewers,' he wrote. 'It is necessary to have the courage to inform people about unexpected or negative events,' for 'the ideological losses that result from information that is incomplete or not reported in good time are simply too great.'
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